of you. What need you
care for what a nervous woman thinks?"

But Ray only pressed his hand a moment, and simply said,--

"I'll come round all right--after a while. Don't worry, old fellow."

But he hadn't "come round." At midnight Blake decided he must have a
drink, and he offered Ray some whiskey, thinking to benefit him in some
way. Ray heard, and said nothing, but put out his hand and gently pushed
it away, shaking his head, and this capped the climax of Blake's
perplexity. At one o'clock, seeing that Ray was still wide awake, he had
decided to go and fetch the doctor. He was fearful of the effect of this
long mental strain, but Ray seemed to divine his thoughts, and in a
voice so soft and patient as to melt Blake's raging into tears, he
begged him not to disturb any one. "I've got you, Blake; what do I want
of a doctor?"

Along towards morning Blake dragged in his buffalo-robes, and spreading
them on the floor by the bedside, soon dropped into a sleep of utter
exhaustion. When he awoke Ray was standing at the window, cleanly
shaved, dressed in his newest and neatest undress uniform, and listening
calmly to Mr. Warner, who, in a voice plainly showing his agitation, was
saying something that brought Blake to his feet with a single bound. A
warrant had been issued as the natural result of the inquest, the
officers of the law had come out from town, and it was the commanding
officer's order that he be turned over to the custody of the civil
authorities.

Blake would have burst into a fury of invective and denunciation, but
Ray's hand restrained him. Still weak from his unhealed wound, from
recent illness, from mental agitation and sleeplessness, Blake thought
he never saw Ray so brave, so strong, as when he made his reply.

"It was my expectation to see the commanding officer this morning, Mr.
Warner, as my dress indicates. Since he remands me to the charge of the
civil authorities, what I had to say to him must be said to them. I
shall be ready as soon as I can change to civilian dress."

And so, with only Blake to help stow away the few books and papers he
desired to lock in his trunk,--for even faithful Hogan had been
forbidden to enter the room,--Ray quietly made his preparations, and in
a few minutes stood arrayed in a business suit that had been made for
him years before, and was decidedly out of fashion. A carriage had
driven to his door, and two heavily-built men were lounging at the gate.
Blake, wild